Foster's Home For Imaginary Fiends
by DR. COFFIN
Summary: Some stories with a little dark skew to them. Definately not for gentle fans of the show, but some of you goth kids might like them. Rated T just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**Foster's Home for Imaginary Fiends**

**Chapter 1**

**The Reclusive Duchess**

"Ah, another day."

Duchess silently rose from her bed before the sun had even started turning the horizon pink with the first rays of the day. She had much to do before everyone else in the house started stirring and then came to help her prepare for the day.

"I think we will focus on hair today," she whispered to herself as she took out a brush and started working on the long strands. It wasn't that hard as she brushed every day, but maybe it was time for a new style…something to go with the coming of another spring.

"Yes," she said, "definitely the hair. A new look perhaps."

The refection in the mirror in front of her only made her decision more logical. It had been a while since there had been a new hairdo.

As she was brushing the hair Duchess could not keep from letting her mind wander back…back over the years to when she had first come into existence.

She had been created by the imagination of Miss Teresia Van Sloane, the daughter and sole child of the multi-millionaire Edward Van Sloane and his second wife. Despite having virtually anything she wanted, Teresia had been a very lonely child, cut off from the outside world by her father's wealth. Teresia had not been a very creative nor intelligent child, but Duchess could see that she was still a good little girl who needed a friend, and she had made her as beautiful as she could.

So the two passed the days together…days that became months and finally years. When Teresia turned fourteen however, something happened. She started becoming quite the spoiled little brat, demanding more and more from her father. She became mean and selfish and took to calling people names and having temper tantrums when she didn't get her way. Even Duchess became the target for her rants on occasion.

It was when Teresia was on one of her worst destructive tantrums ever that it had happened.

Teresia was storming along and Duchess was following, trying to calm her down. They were at the top of a long flight of marble stairs when Teresia whirled around and struck Duchess across the face, calling her an ugly monster that she couldn't believe she had imagined as her friend.

Hurt both physically and emotionally, Duchess lashed back out at Teresia, not intending for her long, wicked looking nails to actually slash the girl's shoulder open and send her tripping backwards over the stair railing and down to the marble floor below…

Duchess snapped out of her thoughts as she heard the faint sounds of the other residents stirring about. Soon the hulking Eduardo would come to her door to help her with her morning ritual, and she knew she must hurry.

"I think that will do for now," she said, taking a step back to admire her handiwork. It was quite a good job, considering what she had to work with, but a little pilfering of a few beauty products later that night would take care of that.

The heavy tread coming up the hall alerted Duchess that time was almost up. She quickly returned the trunk's contents back where it belonged and shoved it under her bed. She then climbed into bed and closed her eyes, ready to continue her charade.

Duchess was always mean and nasty to everyone, and she knew she had to be. The last time she had been nice, she had been badly hurt, and the one she cared for had…had…

That was how she knew not to be nice ever again. That way she would never be hurt, or hurt someone else.

She just hoped no one ever thought to look inside the old trunk she had brought with her to Foster's so many years ago, or they might discover why she was so mean. It wouldn't do for them to find the preserved body of Teresia.

At least, not until after her hair was done.

**The End**


	2. Chapter 2

**Foster Home for Imaginary Fiends**

**Chapter 2**

**"Hasenfeffer"**

"Miss Francis," said Mr. Harriman for possibly the seven millionth time that day, "this incessant dilly-dallying of yours is inexcusable. We will never get the welcome home party for Madam Foster ready with the way you lollygag about."

Frankie suppressed a growl as she blew an errant strand of red hair out of her face. She was trying to get the writing on the cake just right, but the way that stupid rabbit was going on and on she couldn't concentrate. She had been up since five that morning baking the cake and trying to get the other morning chores done while all Harriman did was gripe and criticize…all without lifting a finger to help, of course.

"And this menu you have planned is ridiculous. This meal would not be fit for wild hogs, much less your grandmother."

Harriman was referring to Madame Foster's close brush with the Grim Reaper. Grim had actually stopped by and was asking directions when Madame Foster slipped on a banana peel left by Bloo and fell into him. The two had then tumbled down the front stairs and Madame Foster had strained her back and had to be in traction for a couple of days. Though he was sorry for what happened, before he left Grim turned and stared at the house for a moment before ominously saying "I'll be back in a couple of days."

"Who in their right mind would consider something as common as chicken for the main course for such an event?" sneered Harriman as he looked over what Frankie had planned.

"This is all wrong. Restart the entire meal, beginning with the soup and working through to the dessert. The cake will be satisfactory…I suppose."

"Alright," said Frankie, feeling the last vestiges of her temper and possibly her sanity slipping away, "what do YOU suggest I do instead? I'm just dying to hear what your brilliant strategy is."

"It is not my job to do the planning and preparations of meals here," said Harriman, "that is entirely your responsibility. And I suggest that for once you be responsible and prepare something worthy of tonight's party…something different from the usual daily fare we make due with here."

Frankie then remembered something she had seen when scouring through all the cookbooks for something special for her grandmother. Something that was different and she had never cooked before…something just right for this occasion.

"Don't worry Mr. H," said Frankie as her left eye started twitching and she reached behind her for one of the utensils she had been using earlier, "I think you'll find this a BIG surprise."

"I should hope so," said Harriman, his back still to Frankie, "but still, given your past list of failures I…what in the world…?!"

The last part had come as Frankie grabbed Harriman's ears from behind, pulling his head back to expose his soft throat just above the starched collar; a collar that turned from crisp white to deep red after the butcher knife flew just above it.

* * *

That night the party was going in full swing. Dinner had been a rousing success and everyone had eaten his or her fill. Frankie was kicked back in her chair, about to enjoy her own meal when Mac came up to her. 

"That was a great dinner Frankie," said Mac, "I've never had anything like that before. What did you say it was again?"

"Hasenfeffer," said Frankie through a mouthful of food, "I think its german or something. And I'm glad you liked it."

"I'll say," grinned Mac, "I'd like to take some home for my mom to try. I think she'll love it,"

"Help yourself," said Frankie, "there's still plenty left."

"I just wish I knew where Mr. Harriman was," said Mac, "he missed not only this great dinner, but he's missing the party too."

"Don't worry about that stuffed shirt," said Frankie, "I'm sure he'll turn up…one way or another."

She then took a big bite, and a slight smile went across her face as her eye finally stopped twitching for the first time in years.

**The End**


End file.
